Free Dragon Forge: The Draconic Prophecies - Book Two by James Wyatt

bulwark, staring at the distant beach.
    She glanced over her shoulder at him with a grin. “You have a way of making everything sound so momentous.”
    “Don’t you think it is? How many people have even seen this land, let alone walked into its heart?”
    “Perhaps I’ve grown jaded. You and I spent years venturing into caverns far below the earth where no one had ventured before. Somehow that never seemed so … weighty.”
    “It turned out to be, though, didn’t it? That’s where I found that nightshard, the Heart of Khyber.”
    Rienne’s face clouded. That single moment had set world-shaking events in motion—from speeding along the schism ofHouse Thuranni, to Gaven’s sentence in Dreadhold, and ultimately his confrontation with the Soul Reaver. It had caused them both a great deal of pain.
    “We were so young,” Gaven added. “Too young to appreciate the significance of what we were doing.”
    “Or perhaps now we’re inclined to exaggerate the importance of our tiny quavers in the voice of the Prophecy.”
    A surge of anger rose in his chest. “You think I’m being arrogant? Is that what you think this is about?”
    Rienne turned and leaned back against the bulwark. Gaven expected her face to mirror his own anger. Instead he saw sadness. “I still don’t know what this is about,” she said.
    Her calm demeanor did nothing to soothe his anger. “How many times do I have to explain it to you?”
    “Just until you find an explanation that makes sense.”
    “Saving the world doesn’t make sense to you?”
    “Saving the world, Gaven? Listen to yourself.”
    Gaven was completely dumbfounded. “You think that’s pride.”
    “I think the world doesn’t need saving. You said it earlier—this place is eternal, and the world with it. Nations and empires will come and go, we mortals will live our lives struggling like mad to leave any kind of lasting mark on it, but the voice of the Prophecy continues. Like the drums and the drone, unchanging beneath the melody.”
    “Eternity doesn’t make that struggle less important. Maybe this isn’t about saving the world. But it might very well be about saving everything we know as the world—all of Khorvaire, for example. I think that’s important enough.”
    “And you think you can do that.”
    “I think I have to.”
    Rienne turned back and looked out over the glassy water. “I’m sorry, Gaven. It seems my heart’s just not in this yet. I don’t know what I’m doing here, what my part in all this is.”
    He put a hand on her back. “I’m glad you’re with me, anyway.”
    She gave a slow nod. Then something caught her eye, and she pointed. “What’s that?”
    Gaven’s gaze followed her pointing finger off to port and upward. Two dark shapes wheeled in the air—dragons. There could be no doubt.
    “The dragons are back,” Rienne breathed. “Sovereigns help us.”
    “We’d better tell Jor—”
    The voice of the lookout cut him off. “Dragons!”
    “Do you have a plan?” Rienne asked.
    In answer, Gaven stretched out his fingers, feeling the wind that drove their ship toward the cove. His dragonmark itched again, and the wind gusted briefly, then grew steadily. He felt the wind move through him, felt the storm gathering in his mind. The brilliant blue drained out of the sky, and a veil of gray draped the sun.
    “What are you doing?” Rienne said. “They’ll think we’re attacking!”
    Dark clouds gathered above them, responding to the surge of anger he felt. “I’m trying,” he said, “to get the ship into the cove.” Speaking was difficult. Every word sparked a gust of wind.
    Rienne looked toward the cove, then back at the panicked crew. “I’ll get the crew below.”
    The dragons were coming in fast, adjusting their course to account for the
Sea Tiger’s
burst of speed. They would be upon her before she reached the cove. Gaven couldn’t read their intent—they might have been coming to parley, or purely out of curiosity.